


"Odd Man Out"

by helenkacan



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Childhood Memories, Community: lgbtfest, Friendship, Jealousy, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Pining John, Post-Series, Team, Team Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2014-07-19
Packaged: 2018-02-09 13:25:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1984629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helenkacan/pseuds/helenkacan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post S5.  After John <i>finally</i> flies Atlantis back to Pegasus, he thinks that, once everybody is settled in, things will return back to normal, meaning that he and Rodney will go back to hanging out a lot, especially as Keller didn't return with the expedition when (no surprise) they broke up.  Well, actually, Rodney broke up with her.  He is quite stunned with the evidence (and becomes obsessed with the thought) of Rodney being in a relationship with Ronon.  John's POV.</p>
<p>Written as a companion fic for my submission <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1984404">Belonging</a> into the 2010 fest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Odd Man Out"

**Author's Note:**

> In my heart, I'll always be a McShepper, but there's been something at the back of my mind about the sweetness that could exist between Rodney and Ronon. There are many instances of their interactions, such as the healing hug in _Tao of Rodney_ or the talk about _intentions_ in S5, which one _could_ interpret in a completely different manner. Also, thank you, John, for talking to Ronon about “a woman ... or a man”. Hee, I love it when characters co-operate.
> 
> Rating: mild mature (for wild fancies of John's imagination).

The first time it happened, John passed his free hand over the sensor of Rodney's door, his left hand holding on to the well-used chess set, always guaranteed to score him a match or, well, three with Rodney. To John's surprise, Rodney wasn't in his quarters. But they weren't empty. The space seemed to be overwhelmed with the presence of the body lying apparently quite comfortably on Rodney's bed.

Ronon's body. On Rodney's bed. Not that there was anything wrong with that, though John noted he'd taken his boots off. A barefoot Ronon _on_ – John reminded himself – but not _in_ Rodney's bed.

Still, he didn't know where to look. His empty hand flailed about – great, now he was channelling McKay – as he tried to draw breath from a space that shouldn't be able to hold sufficient air as well as Ronon's impressive body mass. Not that he'd ever really considered Ronon's body. Or, er, mass. And what was with the shorter, sleeker haircut? Had John inadvertently walked through a Quantum Mirror and things were just not the way he expected them to be. Geeze, Teyla and he hadn't been away from Atlantis that long, but there had been unexpected changes upon their return.

Ronon smiled, not unkindly, apparently taking pity on John's plight. “McKay forgot something in the lab. Said he'd be right back. Can I help?” His knowing smirk told John that Ronon probably expected Rodney to be a while. Unless-- No, he wasn't going to imagine anything out of the ordinary, bare feet or not.

John managed to gather the remnants of his tattered composure enough to mutter, “Nah, it's not important. I just thought he'd be up for a game or two. I guess I'll catch up with him – uh, both of you - at breakfast.”

Ronon raised an expressive eyebrow – wasn't that just as insolent as a smirk – and nodded his head. “Sure thing, Sheppard.”

Then John fled, back to his quarters, to a long, scalding shower, without even bothering to turn the lights on, before flinging himself onto his ridiculous bed. Of course, since his feet hung beyond its end, he kept seeing Ronon's bare feet in his mind, their owner lying on Rodney's far larger bed, looking very much at home. And just where was Amelia, if Ronon was lounging on Rodney's bed.

It was hours before John could fall asleep. And not just because his head hurt from thinking too much.

::~::~::

The second time it happened, a few days later, the door slid open, revealing both Rodney and Ronon. Fully-clothed, John reassured himself. And, yet, that didn't reduce the prickly vibes of intimacy he was getting from both men. Ronon was seated at Rodney's desk, typing on one of Rodney's laptops. Okay, so that was already freaky. But what seemed to freak John even more was that Rodney was bent over, leaning unselfconsciously over Ronon's shoulder, pointing at the screen and speaking in a voice that seemed mellowed by indulgence – certainly not a characteristic Rodney was known for exhibiting, at least not in public. Or, really, at any time.

John also knew, in a peripheral sense, how comforting Rodney's bulk could be at his back, whenever they'd shared a tent off-world, though he'd always resisted the temptation of thinking it could be more. But, here, now, he couldn't help but imagine Rodney's heat scorching through Ronon's shirt and leathers, feeling it himself all the way from across the room.

John watched as Rodney's posture straightened out when he turned toward the door. And then Rodney blushed. “Ah, Colonel. You may be interested to know this. Ever since our exciting – by which I mean terrifying – adventure with shifting realities on the Daedalus, Ronon indicated a willingness to help with systems checks. So, as we haven't had any new emergencies and please don't manufacture one just to screw our luck, I thought I'd put any free time to good use.”

To John's amazement, Rodney's blush only intensified when Ronon added, “McKay's a good teacher. Hasn't yelled at me yet.” Ronon shrugged, such a small but meaningful gesture. “Haven't had to shoot him either.” The voice held a lot of warmth, belying the mock threat, as it had lost its bite years ago.

John watched and startled as Rodney poked Ronon in the chest, speaking familiar words, “Chop, chop, Conan, back to work.” To hear and see Rodney bossing Ronon around was unexpected. Wasn't John, as team leader, the only one permitted to do that? With all of them? Well, okay, maybe not so much Teyla, because that way lay nothing but grief. Or a whole lot of back-tracking.

Flustered, John stammered out some sort of excuse for dropping in and, for once, wished he'd been carrying the chess board. Though, since when did he need an excuse for dropping in on Rodney. As he turned to leave, he heard Rodney's voice. “So, are you going to teach me that new martial technique tonight?” John scowled. The world – make that universe – was truly fucked up and he had the proof in front of his eyes. Or, actually, behind his back, as he did his best to flee. Again.

::~::~::

Days turned into weeks. Though the team – and its auxiliary accompaniment of Kanaan and TJ – still shared many meals together and there were other traditional activities such as movie nights, John began to feel left out. Of course, Teyla had her partner and son as her primary focus. But now it seemed as if Rodney and Ronon were spending all of their free time exclusively in each other's company. Not that John was checking up on them. But he overheard enough snippets of conversations, of things they planned, to come to that obvious conclusion.

He threw himself into his work, inevitably surprising Lorne by retrieving his paperwork of which there wasn't enough to bury his head in. But he tried to make himself busy, creating new rotation schedules, implementing snap inspections and making a general nuisance of himself so that Lorne was forced to take a hard stand with his CO.

When John was tossed out of his own office, he spent a week playing golf, smashing those balls off the pier with a fury he didn't know had been coiled deep in his chest, making it hard to catch his breath. When he thought about it later, he realized he hadn't been able to breathe deeply ever since the first time he'd found Ronon in Rodney's quarters.

::~::~::

One week later, he was finally fed up with playing golf. And it wasn't the same, reading his golf magazines or polishing his clubs, because he no longer had Rodney barging into his quarters, interrupting his downtime. Or interrupting his _anytime_ , for that matter. He missed the interruptions. He'd come to expect them and even welcome them. Because no matter how much Rodney blustered about, he was entertaining. Hell, weren't they supposed to be best friends?

His days were disrupted, his nights even more so. Though he consciously tried not to think of the two men as a couple, his dreams betrayed him. He'd wake up nearly every night, heart pounding, gulping for air, with the impossibly pornographic images of his friends' bodies, whom he'd seen naked from decontamination protocols enough times to know just about every feature, including that dimple in Ronon's ass, blazing through his skull in really, really, really vivid colour. Really. Vivid.

And, speaking of asses, John didn't think there was a finer ass in Pegasus than Rodney's. And those nipples. Perky. The man had goddamn _perky_ nipples. Yet seemed totally oblivious about the way they demanded attention through his short-sleeved science shirt. Shaking from frustration, John had thrown himself into a cold shower in the pre-dawn and sent himself running at a pace that even Ronon would have found punishing.

But the cold showers and the running only created a delay; the images were constantly there, lying in wait for him when he fell into bed. He imagined what their first time would have been like. Whether Ronon had fucked Rodney, face to face, watching Rodney's startled blue eyes widening from unexpected pleasure, Ronon with a sweet smile that still spoke of youth despite losing his world and enduring years of running; or imagining a perfectly bossy Rodney closing the laptop he'd been demonstrating on and bending Ronon over his desk, snapping his fingers with impatience and pulling Ronon's pants down roughly before plundering his ass from behind.

God, he was so fucked. He had to get a grip on this obsession he was having with his buddies, two of the three people in the city he trusted absolutely with his life.

::~::~::

John knew this could end up as the stupidest non-command decision he'd ever made. He decided to have a talk with Ronon. He knew – had already done a surreptitious sweep by the labs - that Rodney was mired in a _Go away now, I'm yelling at morons_ session that, with any luck, would go on for at least thirty minutes. Maybe even an hour. If he was really lucky.

They met in a locked room off the main gym, with John's excuse being that he wanted Ronon's opinion of expanding the range of activities available to the entire complement of the city. He'd overheard some of Rodney's female scientists bemoaning that there was nowhere for them to do Pilates. John thought that, if he could make such a space available for booking by small groups, then he would be helping Rodney indirectly. Who should, by all rights, appreciate John's actions.

In the back of his mind, John was busy trying to convince himself that his goal was not to bribe Rodney to spend more time with him. Rodney had apparently made his choice of companion and, like it or not, John wasn't going to wreck things for him.

Actually, if John examined the situation closely, he felt that Ronon was a far better choice than either Katie or Jennifer had been. Rodney's relationship with Katie had been almost non-existent and they'd spent most of their dates at lunchtime. He knew – because he was the one who'd spent most evenings together with Rodney. He hadn't known who was more deluded in that couple.

John hadn't understood what the dynamic was with Jennifer. Considering Rodney's legendary rants about the medical profession being all Voodoo and quackery, without scientific merit, he really didn't know what those two had had in common. Not to mention the fact that she was Rodney's PCP. That should have made both of them uncomfortable on more than one level.

Though John figured they were _doing it_ , he'd kept wondering if Jennifer had muzzled Rodney ... and not even in the fun, kinky way. As much as John thought about Rodney with Ronon, he just didn't want to see Rodney with Jennifer. Not in his head. Not in real life. It was just as well the relationship had fizzled out anyway when they'd been stuck on Earth. Jennifer was just too _Wisconsin_ while Rodney ... he belonged among the stars. Jennifer remained; Rodney came back. John didn't think anybody had really been surprised.

John shook off his scattered thoughts as he and Ronon walked through the unused space. Finally Ronon stopped dead in the centre of the room and faced him. “Know you didn't need me to check this room out. Not for people who want to do some weird stretchy stuff. What's this really about, Sheppard?”

Busted. He just hoped that Ronon wouldn't shoot him ... for a change. “It's just that – what I mean to say is--” John slapped his palm against his thigh in frustration. “I don't like to be kept out of the loop and, even if it's not my business, as team leader I should know what's happening.”

Irritated, he let out a huff of air. “Okay, to the point, are you and McKay--?” He didn't quite know how to end that question, but Ronon appeared to know exactly what he meant.

“Yeah. We are. Is that a problem?” Ronon's body tensed, as if preparing to have to defend his choices.

John stepped forward, waving his hand as if to steady himself. “No. No. You're a civilian, so's McKay. There aren't any regulations to prevent the two of you from being together. Not here, not on Earth.”

Ronon raised _both_ eyebrows. “But you're calling me out on it.”

John let his growing irritation seep into his voice. “I told you I don't like to be in the dark, especially when it concerns _my_ team. That's all it is.” If he repeated it to himself enough times, then it could be the truth.

Ronon shrugged. “Wanted to tell you, but McKay told me not to. Said something about your stupid country's stupidly, moronic regs. Didn't know how you'd take it personally. So I didn't.”

John was hurt when he heard that. He thought Rodney would have known him better than that. Or should have. He still remembered how Rodney had overridden his and Elizabeth's concerns when the expedition first arrived in the city, after having seen how Atlantis could pinpoint the location of everybody down to skin-to-skin proximity. Which said a lot about the Ancients and some of their obsessions, despite all that talk of Ascension.

Rodney had ranted and said he wasn't about to be a part of a petty, small-minded, anti-social, suspiciously homophobic regime that insisted on knowing where its residents were every second of the day, an extended Atlantis day at that, or – worse – night, and had disabled the console that provided immediate location status. Of course, Rodney had to illustrate his rant with a reference to what he called that busy-body computer – with appropriate apologies to Majel Roddenberry - on _Star Trek_ that blabbed where anyone was, no matter how indiscreet the occasion or the lack of a direct need-to-know basis. John had immediately been drawn by the geek factor – and also remembered that the concept of _right to privacy_ was an unknown when _Trek_ was in its infancy, influenced by the worst fears stemming from the Cold War. Even if the show did have a cute Russian character.

Rodney had insisted that the location sensors be used only in case of emergency, especially when there was no response via radio. John had backed him up, eventually, since the expedition was headed up by a civilian and there were far too many scientists to try to herd with such a measure.

In fact, John remembered seeing the pain of betrayal in Radek's eyes when he'd been advised of the city's surveillance capabilities. No, those who had escaped from living under any type of fascist regime didn't need Big Brother (or Sister, in this case) breathing down their necks.

Even when Carter and Woolsey had taken over, John and Rodney had stood firm and refused to change the protocols. Now, John just felt relieved. He didn't want to know what the civilians were up to. Even more so, he didn't want to know what _his_ people were up to, regs or no regs. If they were lucky enough to form attachments – okay ... even just hook up – in the middle of an unstable galaxy, he wasn't going to be the one to point an accusing finger.

He allowed his slouch to become _slouchier_ , his trouser hems puddling at the base of his untied boots. He needed to remind himself that, though he was the CO, he never had been and never would be _The Man_. Still, he wasn't sure if Ronon could interpret his level of tolerance via his posture, or lack thereof. Which meant that he'd have to use actual words. He sighed inwardly.

John let his slouch deepen fully as he slumped down to the floor. He was relieved when Ronon folded himself into a compact shape next to him. “Listen, Ronon, even though I'm the CO of the military here, I've never agreed with certain rules and regs of the American forces. I know Rodney likes to mostly blow off steam – a lot of it – but I would never allow my personal feelings to get in the way of the manner this city is run. We've finally got a complement of the right people for the job, back where the city belongs. And, just for the record – which I'm sure you'll repeat to Rodney, as many times as necessary – I'm happy for the two of you. Really. I can't say I understand what you mean to each other, but I don't go around messing up what works. So, if you can get him to call off his prickly porcupine act, I'd appreciate it.”

John didn't know if he was kidding himself, as he talked about “personal feelings”. Because those he'd kept hidden for such a long time, he didn't know whether he'd need Daniel Jackson and an excavation team to unearth them. And then a shopvac to wash off the years of accumulated dust and dirt.

But it was far too late for him, at least where Rodney was concerned. He might have semi-sabotaged Rodney's prior relationships (or generally pouted when he wasn't able to scrounge more personal playtime with him) but, if this thing with Ronon was serious, he wasn't going to stand in their way. Feelings or no feelings.

::~::~::

**“Rejoice with those who rejoice,  
** and weep with those who weep.”  
Romans 12:15 

It had been decades since John had thought of The Bible. Though not a literal interpreter, his mother had been fond of finding particular verses in it, reading them to him and Dave each evening, and letting them extract and absorb the inherent message on their own.

Of course, they'd lost her far too early in his life, leaving him with a stern father and a yielding, more obedient brother, both of them eventually turning into strangers to him. The Bible had no place in Patrick's search for power. Though John had forgotten so many verses, he'd remembered this one, primarily because he just didn't get it. How could two emotions, diametrically opposed, be acknowledged and appreciated fully by one person. John had reopened his attempt to understand this particular passage as he continued to observe Rodney's and Ronon's growing relationship.

::~::~::

John approached the first team mission after his talk with Ronon with more trepidation. As the team suited up and prepared to walk through the Stargate, he noticed that Rodney was giving him odd, fleeting, almost bird-like peeks. John decided to ignore them. There would be time enough when they were on the other side to find out what was on Rodney's mind.

However, any chance of a spare moment to get Rodney alone had dissipated as soon as they'd arrived. The severity of the encroaching hurricane meant that there was no time for idle chit-chat. Rodney had dragged Ronon off with him in the direction of the transmission tower, leaving Teyla in fervent discussions with the Administrator. So John busied himself by shouting orders to the complement of Marines that had accompanied them.

It was well past midnight, local time, when they appeared to have a chance to rest. Teyla had slumped against John's shoulder on the long bench in the Gathering-House, their mugs of tea gone cold. He was about to suggest that they set up camp for the night when Rodney and Ronon dragged themselves in and settled on the bench across.

Rodney was apparently so exhausted he couldn't even speak. But John noticed Ronon's arm across his shoulder, propping his lover up.

“I guess everybody's ready to pack it in for tonight. Teyla, you bunking with me?”

Eyes that were more bloodshot than blue snapped open, as did that famous mouth. “Since when did our sleeping arrangements change? Ronon's with Teyla and you're in _my_ tent. Or had you forgotten since you've been gadding about all over Pegasus making nice with the natives?”

John sighed. This was not the time nor place for a delicate discussion. “No, Rodney, I hadn't forgotten. I merely thought....” He really didn't know how to say what needed to be said.

Rodney humphed. “Well, you thought wrong. There is absolutely no need to change sleeping arrangements that have worked well for many years. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to acquaint myself with my sleeping bag. And you'd better have packed a couple extra MREs just for me.”

John tried to hide the relief his smile conveyed, but it seemed that Teyla had caught him out. Adopting a long-suffering tone, John admitted, “Yes, Rodney, I packed the ones you like the most. Can we go now?”

Rodney mumbled, “Yes, Mom. Be right there.” John watched as Ronon just squeezed Rodney's arm before propelling his body in John's direction. It was all John could do to catch the stumbling scientist and steady him. By the time he was ready to escort Rodney to their tent, Ronon and Teyla had already left the Gathering-House.

John was amazed to see that, no matter how exhausted Rodney had appeared to be, he still had enough energy to wolf down a single MRE. And then he flopped down onto his sleeping bag, leaving John with the duty of rearranging sleep-heavy limbs to allow whatever space was left over for him to squeeze into.

As he lay down – finally – he allowed his mind to drift. No, there had not been any discussion. But, then again, Rodney appeared to be his old self again. So, with the exception of his relationship with Ronon, it seemed to be business as usual.

And, if business as usual meant that he had Rodney's warm, comforting bulk at his back, then he was content. He didn't know whether or not he could yet mourn – a better translation than “weep” - what he had lost (though, really, he'd never had it to begin with), but he could rejoice for Rodney and for Ronon. For his friends. That wouldn't change. Not today. Not ever. It was a vow John intended to keep.

As he drifted off into sleep, John thanked his mother for having taught him yet another valuable lesson in life.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Seriously, if you think they're mine ... oh, don't tempt me!  
> Word count: 3,728 words (via two other sources)


End file.
